


Unattainable

by peachyivar



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: M/M, Vikings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:22:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyivar/pseuds/peachyivar
Summary: Ivar had no idea what love felt like, how powerful it was and how easily it could destroy him. How, simple emotions for someone could make him crumble; make him break. Ruin him from the inside, make him utterly fall apart.





	1. introduction

Ivar had never had emotions for anyone in his life, he was past that. When his brothers gifted him Margrethe, the slave girl, and his cock wouldn't stand up; he gave up entirely on the notion of a significant other. Even Aslaug had never thought any woman beautiful enough, worthy enough, for her precious Ivar. It wasn't of her business, but it never bothered Ivar because he was never with a woman, never had to show anyone off to the rest of his brothers. He was always too busy working twice as hard as his brothers to prove himself to Ragnar, his father. He needed to show Ragnar that he was strong enough to be king, to take after him when he was gone. The way Ragnar patted Ivar's cheek and smiled when he was asking his brothers if they wanted to be king was utterly insulting, it showed Ivar that Ragnar didn't think him 'worthy' enough. Ragnar didn't even want Ivar to be earl, he thought Ivar was far too weak. But Ragnar's gone now. And so was Aslaug. Ivar no longer needed to prove himself to anyone, no one thought of him as "poor little disabled Ivar." Not anymore. Not after all that he had accomplished. Especially not after killing Sigurd. Everyone, especially his brothers, feared him. Only Björn and Lagertha wouldn't tremble when he threatened them, but they would soon. He would make sure of that.  
He would be king of norway and neither Lagertha or Björn could come in his way. They would tackle that later, but for now, they had to crush the christians. They needed to defeat them, Ivar wanted to rule the whole world. And as he sat there in the courtyard, screaming, letting the world know who he was; he met eyes with a stranger. A rather beautiful stranger- Ivar would give him that. He was impressive, he was slaughtering the vikings with nothing but a single sword. Not even armour. Ivar took delight in that pushing the soldiers guarding him away, he couldn't help but grin wildly at the man who, in turn, pointed that sword in Ivar's direction. As cliché as it was; time seemed to stop moving when they faced each other. Not even the dozens of soldiers between them could restrict the heated glares passed to one another. But a few endless seconds later, he turned away to yell some jibberish about their God and king. He was building the moral of the soldiers that were going to suffer an embarrassing defeat. Ivar took pity in that. It was odd that these soldiers had to be encouraged to fight; for the Vikings- fighting was in their blood, its what they lived and died for. "God reigneth over the heathen," the last and only words Ivar heard come out of the Christians mouth before they retreated. That night Ivar spent hours thinking of all the ways he could turn the Christian into his plaything, all that occupied his mind was how he'd capture Heahmund and make him... his. Ivar wanted the christian to willingly turn on his own people, learn the viking way and join the great army. A warrior like him would be irreplaceable; an important asset to Ivar's inner circle. The kinds of things that not even Hvitserk knew about. It would be a few days before they met again. The last time they crossed paths without laying a finger on one another; this time- Ivar wouldn't repeat that mistake.


	2. Chapter 1

Ivar stood high up on the building, watching his soldiers fight off the Christians. There he was again; the Christian that already managed to capture his heart without even a seconds interaction. The golden prize of the opposing army; who was he?

His sword continued cutting down men as if they were nothing but plants, one by one they kept dropping. Until they shot down his horse. When the horse fell, it fell upon Heahmund who coughed blood whilst trying to push the horse off his body. His first instinct was to reach for his sword even before he was able to stand up. He stood on guard while the Vikings surrounded him but he heard a younger voice call out to them and they suddenly came to a halt.  
There was only silence surrounding them, before the younger boys voice pierced the air and Heahmund heard very familiar sounds of a horse trotting towards him.

It was being offered to him, a sign of respect from the boy. Heahmund graciously accepted, losing all energy in his legs and falling to his knees. He kissed his sword for good luck and got onto the steed right after bowing to the cripple atop the building. He smiled in return, to which Heahmund grimaced, trying to look threatening but his chapped lips and beaten down face not allowing him to do so. The boys arm sliced through the air, after Heahmund gave him a short nod, signifying the continuation of the battle.

A battle of which time seemed endless, but somehow, Heahmund was captured. he was captured by the Vikings.

Pulled down off his- no, Ivar's, horse.

Ivar achieved what he had wanted to do since he set eyes on the Christian.

Ivar walked towards the man being held back by other Vikings, one of which handed Ivar the Christian's sword. 

It was majestic.

But Ivar didn't have time to admire it, not now, not when the Christian was breathing fire.

"Heathen!" The Christian yelled at the top of his lungs, if that was an attempt to frighten Ivar in the slightest, it failed miserably. Rather, it gained a chuckle from the cripple.

"Christian." He said quietly. How could he have made such a holy word sound like an insult? More importantly... why did Heahmund feel a shiver run down his spine? Why did he feel a heat pool in his lower stomach?

He felt disgusting. Vile. Weak.

An erection at the sight of a dirty man, insulting him for his faith. He truly was scum.

Looking at this Northman was sin itself... but he still couldn't tear his eyes from the boys icy gaze. There was something about him, something that was able to read Heahmund down to his very core. See the sins even he hadn't confessed to. Could the Northman see the lust he felt in this moment? Did he see Heahmund's desire to devour him? 

The Northman was Heahmund's mortal enemy but he still felt lust for the dark haired cripple. He knew how wrong it was but he still wondered, if the boys legs didn't work did that mean... his cock didn't either?

Before the completion of his thought he was being dragged away by the other Northmen, the ones that held him down. Far into the town. Into depths even he didn't know existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this chapter is so short omg i'm currently about to start my exams and i forgot i had to update, please bear with me lmao


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short as hell, yikes

He was trapped there, he knew when days and nights passed but... he couldn't keep track of how many passed before he was met with the younger Northmans icy gaze.

In an area isolated from the rest of the world, he was shackled to the floor and he was filthy from the animal like treatment the Vikings gave him. Despite everything they did to him and the amount of cruelty they showed him, he never once lost faith. This was the perfect chance to truly show his loyalty to his God, and he wasn't blindsided to this opportunity and seized it to his best abilities. 

The only time Heahmund's pure faith was disrupted when he felt that same fiery heat in his abdomen at the sight of the young Viking looking at him like he was the last person on Earth. The blaze became embarrassingly strong when he heard his soft voice. The words that were exchanged between them felt like a distant memory in Heahmund's mind, all he was focusing on was the shame he felt because each word that Ivar uttered increased. His attention was soon snapped back when the Ivar's hearty laughter preceded the question; "do you even know who I am?"

Of course Heahmund knew who he was, a good majority of the Christians knew about Ivar, son of Ragnar Lothbrok. They had all heard stories of his cruelty and we're terrified of what he could do to them without blinking an eye. Ivar knew how many people there were that feared him and he took perfect advantage of that to take charge whenever he wanted.

"But you don't fear me."

Heahmund's denial was almost immediate, "I fear no man, no matter how wicked." Between the statement he turned to glare at Ivar. It took him every ounce of self control to make sure he didn't soften his gaze at the young man and he almost succumbed to the pressure when Ivar began talking about how people spread lies about people they've never even met and insinuating that he could be one of them. 

"How would I know?" Was the question Ivar was faced with; and as soon as those words escaped Heahmund's mouth, Ivar's expression changed to show a more vulnerable one- a glimmer of disappointment crossed his face for a few eternal seconds before he replaced it with a smirk. As he looked away Heahmund gave in and softened his expression vastly for the Northman.

As the smirk crept onto Ivar's face, his eyes lit up with an idea. "I will give you the chance to find out, you are coming on a journey with us." He said with a low chuckle, and quietly turned to crawl away. 

As the younger man was moving away, Heahmund felt the incessant need to retaliate somehow- anyhow. "I'm on a journey of my own." He yelled as loud as his vocal chords would allow him to, Ivar faltered for a second before turning back to ask, "aren't we all?" 

Heahmund felt no need to speak further as he watched Ivar crawl away from him. He felt a weight lifted off his chest, he no longer had to use all his power to try keep a façade up in front of the Vikings eyes. He would never let Ivar know how he truly felt for him, and he would never admit to himself that he felt anything aside from a passionate hatred for his captor. 

Feeling anything but hatred towards a pagan would never lead him to true salvation, so he had to bury each feeling deep in his subconscious and pray that his body would never betray him. 

After a few minutes passed when Ivar left, Heahmund could not help but question himself; why did he feel such unspeakable emotions for the younger man? Worst of all, why did it hurt when he thought that Ivar would never reciprocate his feelings? Why were his feelings suddenly growing deeper with each passing minute? Before they spoke it was simple lust, something that Heahmund would've been able to hide.

What was happening to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot i was writing this fic and today i came across a draft of this chapter in my notes and felt inspiration so :-)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic on ao3, i hope you enjoy the rest of the fic :-) feedback will be greatly appreciated!


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